


Constant

by txilar



Category: Original Work
Genre: Community: smut_fest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txilar/pseuds/txilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Accepting a freelance position with Apollo Xrysanthos takes Panos Zalou to the lush island of Antikytheros, designing navigational technology used across the globe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Constant

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [gryvon](http://gryvon.livejournal.com) for the alt-history/future round of [smut_fest](http://smut-fest.livejournal.com/). 
> 
> The [antikythera mechanism](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antikythera_mechanism) is a real device, named after the shipwreck area it was recovered from. Antikythera is a real island; Antikytheros is not.

  
_"Clocks will go as they are set, but man, irregular man, is never constant, never certain."_  
Thomas Otway

_'We arrested a Gerald Herrington a fortnight ago. He mentioned you. He said you were adopted and, with your given name, naturally we question your allegiance.'_

Not only had Gerald stolen from him, he'd betrayed what Panos believed to be a near-sacred trust, giving his name up to Minders in order to save his own skin.

_'Perversions are, naturally, to be assumed from people of your character.'_

Panos took a deep breath and listened to the tide.

_'It's not you, Panny. It's not that I don't care.'_

He could see another island far in the distance, a vague outline of haze and darker grey. It was smaller than Antikytheros, and closer to the mainland. He'd been told it was uninhabited, save for a priest and a collection of monks living in an old church from the 17th century. He wondered if Antikytheros looked as mystical from the other side.

There was something about the smell of Antikytheros that was familiar. The perfume from the flowers combining with the electric salt of the ocean. The bougainvillea that crowded doorways and paths and bubbled over railings. The way the ocean's silken rustle seemed to nestle deep within him. A memory of that quiet murmur almost surfaced.

Panos shook his head and thought about Apollo.

Despite his insistence that Panos would get used to the openness 'like you've been here all your life,' Panos wasn't sure he would. He was used to the city surrounding him. Buildings leaning in protectively, the percussion of mechanics overhead and thundering in the distance, and the constant rattle of people bustling, carriages moving, and graphwires buzzing. The smell of petrol in the air were the aroma he'd become accustomed to.

The island was wild and untamed with only the ocean's steady heartbeat and intoxicating florals as a chorus. This quiet island was something he would get used to. And he knew he would miss it when he left. The smell. The illicit purple. The waves crashing in the distance, a sound as subtle as spiderwebs. It was an open silence, waiting and expectant.

And how odd was it that the island home of such modern technology was a step back in time? Half the island was factories and the rest was strewn with ancient ruins.

Some, Apollo told him, were so old their provenance was pure mystery. Walls written in a tongue no one had spoken for a thousand years or more. Panos was eager to see the ruins. History fascinated him, but also, it was a curious juxtaposition, living side by side with the past.

And then there was Apollo himself...

Panos inhaled deeply, looking once more at the tiny patch of beach holding out amongst the cliffs below before turning back to his worktable.

It had been only a week since he'd left New York. Had it not been for Archibald taking his inventory to sell at his Sectorium, he'd have had no choice but to leave penniless. As it was, he was able to give his housekeeper a small severance to hold her over until she could find a new position. He would receive a steady commision from Archie that should hold him until his work here was completed and paid.

And where would he go then?

There was no guarantee that Gerald wouldn't set more Minders after him. He was lucky enough they hadn't stopped him in London There was little they could do here. And if he ever wanted to leave the Republic, he'd need protection. And home? He took a deep breath and clenched his fists, determined not to think about that.

How Gerald could turn on him after--Panos squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Apollo's ferro-prints were all he saw.

The sun was set by the time a servant knocked on his door to alert him to dinner.

By morning, he felt ready to conquer the entire Republic. Surely it was a sign that his housekeeper's prophecies of doom were right: he was working himself into an early grave.

Overnight he'd had a bit of an epiphany and was ready to assemble a simple prototype just to test his theory. Curiously enough, he'd dreamt of being underwater, swimming through an ancient wreck when a fish guided him toward an antikythera, buried in the sea's debris. Bubbles escaped the fish's mouth as he spoke: 'Two gears are better than one.'

It was Apollo's voice. Panos laughed thinking of it.

"And to think I had you pegged as the serious type."

Panos twitched as he turned to face the unexpected voice. "Ah..." He started to speak, but words failed him. He stared. Apollo wore a buttoned coat over smart chequered trousers and he leaned on a glossy black cane.

Panos was dressed to work. His loose shirt and trousers were decidedly improper for a meeting such as this apparently was, and the leather apron over them was crude. He felt like a beggar.

"I thought you were still in Denos."

Apollo nodded with a small shrug. "I returned early. All is coming along well?" Apollo smiled at Panos' murmur. "Good. I'd hate to have to tell you the latest news if it weren't. Why don't you have a seat?"

Suddenly uneasy, Panos sat down on the small wheeled stool. It wobbled a little and that seemed a hint of things to come.

Apollo was still smiling. The smile transformed his face, like sunshine breaking through clouds. Panos flushed. That was really over the top. But smiles did light up his face. His eyes crinkled at the edges and gave him a kind expression. And his mouth, his lush lips, spread wide and inviting. He wasn't wearing a hat and his black ringlets were in disarray from the wind. Panos blinked.

_I have to stop staring._

Apollo, grinning still, turned to toy with various instruments on Panos' work-bench, idly caressing book corners, picking up tools to study, until finally he looked at Panos.

"A warrant has been called out against you," he said in one quick breath. "I'm terribly sorry. I'm pleased you are here and not being dragged off by Minders, but it could be a problem if you wish to go home. I was able to contact friends who have secured your finances, but apparently a Mr Herrington has--"

"Gerald?" What else could Gerald do to him?

Panos blinked again. He repeated the rest of Apollo's words in his mind and took a deep breath. He was taking a lot of those lately.

"A warrant for what? I'm afraid I don't--" That had all been taken care of. Archie had spoken up for him. And by God, it might have seemed a lie, but it was the truth. He'd yearned for Gerald's touch, but it hadn't happened. The Minders had threatened to...

"There are other things I should tell you." Apollo looked unsettled, that was the only way to describe it. As if he did not want to continue talking, but he did.

"Herrington wasn't--He was setting you up, Panos. He works for them. Not the Minders, but the Department of Security itself. Not only were they prepared to, er..." He trailed off, rubbing his knuckles over his mouth before he continued. "Entice you, they were prepared to imprison you and force you to build their machines. I know, I know." He broke off at Panos' attempt to interject.

"It sounds ridiculous," he began slowly. "But Gerald Herrington is a married man, with children. There are several closed cases of his, er, indiscretions, that are either used to recruit or blackmail men and women of interest to the department."

Panos stood. "How do you know all of this?"

Apollo shrugged, angling himself against the drawing table. He traced the edges of a ferro-print. "I'm sorry to--to be the one to tell you."

"But how do you--" Panos shook his head and moved to the window. He couldn't look at Apollo. He stared at the window, closed now, to keep out the afternoon sun's glare, and listened the bird calls and the distant clattering from the kitchen. Thank god Apollo's uncle wasn't here to hear this.

"So you know. I suppose I should leave--"

"No."

Panos turned. Apollo sounded certain. Consoling. And he was so handsome. If he--No. _You have to have learned your lesson this time, Pan._

"We expect you to complete your work for one. You're family. For another." Apollo smiled and shrugged one shoulder up. It was almost coy. "This is the Hellenic Republic. We haven't changed so much from our ancient ways. Only we share our technology a bit more." His smile widened and Panos relaxed. "We welcome you to stay, Panos. And this brings me to the other news I had to tell you."

"Well I hope that was the bad news." What on earth could be worse?

"I hope so too." Apollo looked at him for a moment, eyes narrow as if he were trying to figure something about about Panos. "It's about your family. Part of the reason Herrington found you is my fault. I was looking for you as well and through my inquiries, he came across your work. Panos, you--your parents weren't--" Apollo broke off shaking his head. "Your family is from the island. You were adopted by your mother's cousins, after your father died. The war was ending and...."

Panos stared at Apollo.

"And you see, we aren't related but our families are. You, Panos, are a son of Antikytheros. And that's why you are here."

"I don't..." He'd been born just outside New York, his grandmother told him. They moved to the city when he was three. He was named for a friend of his father's who had died in the war. "I was named for a family friend, I'm not--"

"Your father was Panos Giannakos. My great-aunt married your uncle. Your mother sent you abroad with cousins when you were barely four." Apollo smiled. "I remember you, though I know you don't remember me."

So Gerald was right.

_'Of course you were adopted. And with a name like that of course the Minders are interested in you, even if the war is over. You know what they say, 'war is never won.''_

His first thought was to deny what Apollo was saying, but suddenly the familiarity made sense. So many things made sense. His mother's encouragement of his Greek studies. His father had been a banking manager, but he seemed eager to guide Panos to the antikythera. They spoke of his affinity as if it were a given.

_'Panos has such an eye. Guided by Polimetis' hand.'_

And from the moment Apollo had walked into his small shop, he'd felt a tug. He'd thought it mere lust for an attractive man who looked at him like he saw something more than just an odd device designer. He should have known better on that count.

Panos opened his mouth to say something, but he wasn't sure what. What did it matter now? His parents were dead. Had been dead for years now. He would always miss them and nothing could change the fact that they had raised him.

"My parents are--are any of my family still alive?"

"Your uncle Demetrios is still alive. He was your father's eldest brother I understand. We can go see him if you like. You've been working hard. We'll take a break. And soon there will be a celebration. After that, work can resume."

"What kind of celebration?" Panos asked faintly. It seemed the most ridiculous thing to be thinking about a party now, when he'd learned so much more of Gerald's betrayal--a fantasy! Everything was a fantasy, and now his own parents were--but no. They loved him. Of that he had no doubt. And they had been family, after all.

Apollo looked a little embarrassed. "Well, as I told you, the island is old. Our history goes back. To the dawn of time," he added theatrically. "We still worship the ancients and Dionysos' Day is coming."

"Oh." Panos had no idea what else to say. He was adopted, his former lover was a con, and he was going to celebrate the birth of a heathen god. "What should I wear?" Any minute he would break out in hysterical laughter.

But Apollo just tilted his head in that beguiling way of his and smiled. "Why don't we have drinks outside?"

Panos followed Apollo to the patio. The western tip of the island curved out against the horizon, the dark navy shadows meeting the fading remains of golden sunset and a large waning moon hovered above. He stood at the garden's edge, looking at the rocky cliffs below.

"Is the beach accessible?"

Apollo joined him to look. His arm was warm against Panos'. "It is."

Panos swallowed deeply and turned to look at Apollo. After a heartbeat, Apollo turned to look at him. He reached out and gently touched his thumb to Panos' chin.

"Something on your face," he murmured, but didn't move.

"Thank you," Panos breathed.

Panos stared into Apollo's dark eyes, lit by sunset. He took a shaky breath and looked back out. Apollo's body was warm and he could feel the heat against his body.

"Panos, I--" A yell broke the stillness.

"Gavril!"

Panos startled and they fell apart. Apollo only sighed, while Panos' heart pounded. "Who?"

"Ah, they are calling me. I should go see what is going on. It's probably Polymnia. You'll meet her. Panos... I've put so much on you tonight, I hate to leave you alone."

Panos shook his head. "It's for the best. I have plenty to think on. Might I send a wire to my cousins tomorrow?" At least his cousins were still his cousins. Apollo's too, he supposed.

"Of course," Apollo said, then hesitated. "I will see you on the morrow."

 

///

 

Panos woke early. Something about the island air or the island light. Or maybe the island sounds? He had no idea what it was, but he woke shortly after sunrise every morning. He'd never been much of a morning person. Here, he woke with the sun, opened the windows and revelled in both bright sunshine and fresh sea-borne air.

On this morning, he stayed he bed, contemplating. He'd thought, after his parents death, that he had no family left, save for Archie, who wasn't really a cousin at all. Like Apollo, he was the child of relatives through marriage. Unlike Apollo, he wasn't terribly handsome, and he certainly didn't give Panos that look.

It seemed stupid, and somehow illicit to find Apollo so attractive. They were cousins. Well, not really, but he'd need to see a chart to work it out. He wasn't sure it mattered anyway. Apollo remembered his father fondly. Hopefully he could tell Panos more about the man that was so much more than a namesake.

Giannakos.

Panos got up and dressed quickly. He made his way to his drawing table and shoved papers away until he found the distinctly blue ferro-prints Apollo had given him when he first arrived.

_'It's something our original designer started, but never completed. The helical gear design means it will be quieter, cheaper to produce, and it will last longer. It is our hope that you can not only complete the design, but bring it up to standard. My uncle and I have followed your work for some time. I think you will find our compensation package quite generous.'_

He unrolled the collection of pages and looked carefully in the upper right corner. There, just like his own. A signature. Incredibly small, but neatly legible in Greek lettering.

Panoyiotis Giannakos.

His father had created these designs.

All his life he'd thought his father was calculations manager. He didn't even like his adding machine, preferring an old abacus that had belonged to his father. Mother was a teacher. She quizzed him on what he learned and filled in the gaps when she felt his studies lacking. They'd impressed both Hellenic history and philosophy on him. They took him to the beach on holiday.

_'Good health needs fresh air, Pan.'_

They'd both pushed him toward this. Toward this work, this design, even this island.

Panos drew his finger over the printed name and smiled.

 

///  
 

Though Panos was well versed in reading ancient Greek, and could speak a fair bit of Modern, the islanders spoke a dialect he could not comprehend. He'd felt quite out of place and done little more than have all the drinks offered him and smile politely at anyone he passed. Now he was watching the musicians perform. A few men were gathered around doing a small but complicated circle dance. Panos couldn't follow it at all.

"Pan!"

Apollo had caught up with him. He shook Panos' hand, smiling warmly, before guiding his just-as-warm arm over Panos' shoulder and drawing him in. "She's a zitherist. Family tradition on the island. The women of her mother's family are said to be direct descendants of the temple virgins who sang and played a thousand years ago."

She was playing the zither, laughing and singing with a group of musicians. Dark haired, dark-eyed and red-lipped, she was easily the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. The moment Apollo pointed her out he was jealous--and glad she was only his cousin. Their cousin. Not that he had the beginnings of a chance with Apollo, but at least it wasn't because of the competition.

"Our cousin Polymnia," he said, once the song was finished. After introductions, hugs, and cheek-kisses, the conversations gradually shifted back into local dialect, the music started up, and Panos wandered.

He found himself in a garden, just down the road from the villa, the distant sounds of the party echoing in the breezy night air. He felt liquid and warm and so amiable as to smile at the statues in the garden.

"Hello there, nymph, or goddess. Are you as bored and lonely as I?"

"Panos?"

He turned to find Apollo at the garden's gate. He was smiling.

"Where did you go?"

"Right here," Panos answered, feeling suddenly playful and flirtatious. "Did you need me?" He felt his pulse quicken. What was there to lose? He was too drunk to really worry about his dignity. Apollo's expression was bemused and yet... the way he looked at Panos.

Apollo blinked once, slowly, then looked behind himself, before moving toward Panos. He stopped barely a breath away, warm, and smelling faintly of cigarette smoke.

Panos relaxed against the column behind him, tilted his head back, and licked his lips. He nearly laughed. He felt drunk and giggly and wasn't sure he could manage to keep his hands off Apollo.

"Have enough of the party?" Apollo asked.

Panos nodded. He couldn't keep the smile from his face.

"You seem happy." Apollo close enough that Panos could feel the warmth emanating from him.

In one swift movement, Apollo stepped close and reached out to touch Panos' face, his thumb pressing against Panos' cheekbone as his fingers feathered lightly down his neck. He tugged Panos close and met him in a kiss.

Panos reached up to grasp Apollo's shoulders and the kiss turned rough and heated.

"Is this your way of encouraging me?'

"Is it working?" Apollo smiled against Panos' cheek. He ran his lips alongside Panos' jaw, laughing as Panos shivered against the touch.

And Panos laughed too. The garden was oddly humid, full of the smell of jasmine and roses, and Apollo had him pressed against the column. He was more than aware of how drunk he was, but the moon glowed in a sharp blue outline far, far above them. It seemed to approve.

"I thought we were cousins. Isn't this unseemly?"

"We aren't." Apollo kissed his cheek again. "I wish we were," he whispered. Panos laughed, scandalised, but aroused, and trying to move closer to Apollo.

He studiously ignored the voice of his conscience telling him this was a bad idea. He was going to need more to drink. Especially if Apollo kept giving him those open mouthed kisses across his neck, and pushing his knee between Panos' legs.

Apollo twisted his hips so that his thigh was between Panos' and at the same time jerked Panos closer. Panos let out a ragged sound and raised his hands to Apollo's shoulders. He needed to push Apollo away, but he didn't want to. Apollo's mouth was at his neck, and then his hand slid right under the waistband of Panos' trousers.

"Oh god," he whispered.

"It's just a name," Apollo said, snickering.

"This is a terrible idea."

Apollo nodded, one hand cupping Panos' ass, the other unbuttoning his trousers. Apollo kissed him hard and then he was gone, on his knees before Panos and he knew he must be drunk or dreaming then, because he was usually the one on his knees.

Apollo's hands were tight on his hips, then his hot fingers and even hotter mouth were wrapped tight around Panos' cock and mouth. He clenched his hand into a fist, biting on his knuckles as Apollo sucked and hummed and licked.

With a whimper Panos dropped his hands into Apollo's dark curls.

"Apollo," he moaned, the name dragged from him helplessly. Apollo cupped his balls, pressing his fingers carefully around Panos' hole, tantalising, but not quite touching.

A ridiculously sweet pressure was building, flooding his system with a completely different kind of drunkenness, tinted with a sobriety so sharp it was almost painful. He whimpered as the pressure built, whispering Apollo's name when it broke.

Panos gasped, gulping in air. His heart raced and his body was liquid. Apollo said something, but Panos couldn't hear over the rushing in his ears.

 

///

 

There was a knock at the door. It was insistent, as though someone had been knocking for a while.

"Come in," he called out and stood, brushing his hands off. A mere brushing wouldn't do anything about his ink-stained hands, but it was habit. He looked up just as the door opened.

"Panos."

Apollo. It had been two days since the party. Since the garden. He wasn't sure he he expected to see Apollo again, truth be told.

"Come to check up on me?" he asked lightly. Apollo smiled weakly, not quite meeting Panos' gaze. "Look, I'm almost finished. Tryphon has been assisting me with the prototype and--"

"I'm not here about that."

Panos slid his hands into his pockets. Of course not. "What can I do for you, then?" Though Apollo had been the one to--it wasn't like Panos hadn't played this game before. He tried not to grind his teeth. Gerald at least had given him the pretence of a relationship.

"Panos, I--It was a grievous assumption I made upon you. I cannot apologise enough. Let me spare you indignity and we proceed as if no such night occurred. I am loathe to blame the wine, but the celebration caught up with me and... I only meant..."

He trailed off. Panos felt queasy and that surprised him. He'd expected this, he told himself. But hearing Apollo speak set a cold feeling in his belly. He felt rather devastated, truth be told, but also a little worried. He wouldn't send him back to the Minders, would he?

"I hope--that is, am I leaving? Do you want me to go?"

"No!" Apollo did look up at that and met Panos' gaze. He looked like he meant it. He looked guilty. He also looked... sad. "No, I would never--It's no fault of your own," he said quietly.

Panos took a deep breath. "Of course. Let me show you my progress, then." Panos picked up his welding goggles. They weren't strictly necessary, especially when he wasn't building, and actually they hindered his view a great deal, but for some reason, he felt he might crack and holding the goggles, even though there was no welding here, gave him some measure of dignity.

When Gerald had dropped him so unceremoniously, it hadn't burned like this. For one, Gerald had never touched him like Apollo had. Gerald had claimed to love him. Perhaps by not lying to him Apollo was the better man?

Once again he found himself thinking of things he'd decided not to think about, so he turned his mind back to the one thing that didn't ever betray him: gears.

It was easy to speak when he was explaining the process of the build. In all his years, he'd never seen an antikythera so delightfully designed. 'Simplicity is the noblest quest,' his father had always said. And the design spoke to him, as though his father were speaking to him. It seemed a madness to even consider such, but he couldn't deny the feeling.

They didn't speak about anything beyond the design of the antikythera. Apollo seemed pleased with the progress. He never had liked deadlines pressing against his thoughts, and, as usual, Panos was ahead of schedule.

"Nonetheless, I thank you," Panos said, as Apollo prepared to leave.

"What?" Apollo turned, his hand at the door.

"I feel as though I've met my father through these designs. I thank you for that. And of course, you kept me from quite dire circumstances."

Apollo looked pained, though he nodded in agreement. There was certainly no denying that. Had he not accepted Apollo's offer--had Apollo not pressed him to accept, the Minders would have come for him. They probably had, only to find him gone, confirming all the suspicions Gerald had given them.

Later, he would ponder his future. The design was complete save for a few last minute adjustments after the prototype was complete. Tryphon gave him an estimate of a few days time for that.

Until then, he could enjoy what the island had to offer. Maybe he could visit the ruins.

 

///

 

"You can visit the temple when you come back. The gods always call back their own--and Apollo always gets what he wants," she teased.

Panos shook his head, still embarrassed. She'd taken one look at him and known.

"Ah, it's just a nickname, don't be silly," she said, mistaking his blush for earlier, when he'd looked for Apollo and no one seemed to know who he meant.

"Even Tryphon," he pointed out. Polymnia couldn't enter the factory, so Panos had gone. He'd asked three people where to find Apollo. He hadn't been in his office. One old man pointed at the sky. Finally in desperation he'd asked Tryphon, but until he'd said 'Mr Xrysanthos,' Tryphon too had looked at him like he was crazy.

They finally stopped where the whitewashed walls sloped outwards, opening up to the road that went into the village, away from the villa. The sun was turning the walls pink and even Polymnia's dark hair was gilded with sharp highlights.

"They thought you'd had visions. No one, well, Apollo is not our god, so it makes them nervous, to think Apollo has shown himself to someone on the island." She smiled, her eyebrows rising at him, and handed him an evil eye charm. "To help with the visions."

Quietly, he took the charm and turned to leave.

"No, Panos, wait. You are family. Antikytheros is your home. Your parents, they--"

"My parents died over five years ago. They had nothing to do with this." Regardless of all he'd learned, they were still his parents.

Polymnia looked fond. "But darling, your father died in the war. Your mother did not want you to suffer what she thought was inevitable. She tried to send me as well, but my mother, well, she had only me after my father was killed." Polymnia laughed, but it was the helpless expression of someone who didn't know how else to respond. "You are still one of us."

"I have to go, Polymnia."

"Where can you go? Please, do not leave Apollo. He's spent so much time looking for you. And especially now--"

"It can't be like that." Panos shook his head smiling gently. Looking for him or not, Apollo couldn't want him here. Whatever else she was going to say was simply impossible. Though she was right that he had nowhere else to go. He didn't _want_ to leave Apollo. But it was impossible to stay.

"I leave in the morning. I..." Panos swallowed, suddenly reluctant to go. "I barely know you, but I will miss you." He realised how stiff he sounded and tried to smile. "Can I write you?"

Polymnia laughed. "Oh, darling," she said, reaching for him. "Of course. I will beg you to visit in every letter."

"I'll consider it each time," he said, smiling. After another hug, they parted ways and he made his way to his rooms, to his neatly packed bags and neatly arranged toolkit.

Panos sighed. He didn't want to leave.

 

///

 

A horn sounded in the distance.

"I'll send a graph as soon as I arrive in Athens. Thank you for sharing your home with me. Cousin," he added, with a smile.

There were tears in her eyes so he leaned forward and grazed her cheek with his. Tryphon was with her, and hugged him after passing him a small wrapped gift. After yet another flurry of hugs and kisses, Panos was finally off.

It was an overnight steamer and he'd arranged for a private room, but a few drinks would get him quickly slumbering, then he could forget and arrive in Athens before he knew it.

As soon as he got on the ship, he made his way to the gentleman's club. "Three shots of ouzo, please."

By the time he made it to his room, he was both drunk and tired. Though the seas were rough, he could not blame his uncoordinated moves on the water alone. Panos chuckled as he took yet another fancy stumble.

It took a few tries before he got his door unlocked and for that he blamed the key.

"Ill-hewn mockery of metal."

A lazy voice answered him. Panos jumped and moved around the corner into the tightly packed room. Apollo was sprawled on his bed, smoking a pipe and reading a book. He was reading Panos' book.

"What?"

"I said, you must be flying high to curse your key so."

Panos could only stare. He felt dizzy again and it was not the ouzo this time. He swallowed and tried to speak--tried to gather his nerves.

"What, ah, wh-what are you doing here?" There was no turning back now. Panos tried to count how many hours they'd been at sea. He had no idea what time it was.

"Four and two thirds of an hour," Apollo said.

"What? Oh. Yes. But what are you doing here? This is my room." His room and only one bed in it.

Apollo sat up. "My apologies, Panos. I didn't think... That is, I thought we'd have this conversation earlier. I still owe you an apology."

"You paid me. You owe me nothing more." Panos sat down at the desk. The room felt even smaller than it had before.

Apollo was quiet and Panos dreaded hearing what he had to say. "I took advantage of you. No payment can--"

"Do you think me a child?" Panos looked up but Apollo was staring at the closed book in his lap. He had the decency to still be clothed. Panos didn't imagine he'd come here expecting... whatever things Panos' deviant mind was thinking.

"Of course not. But I did bring you here under, well, less than honest means."

"You hired me to do an honest job. Was that a hoax?"

"No! Panos you must believe me, I would never--"

Panos smiled. "That was purely rhetorical. You need not console me as you would some innocent maiden fearing the theft of her virtue." Pano tried to measure his words carefully, but there was simply no way around it. "I'm not innocent and I have no virtue to lose."

They were both quiet. Panos looked at Apollo uncritically as Apollo, appearing quite abashed, avoided his gaze entirely. Apollo sighed heavily.

"Oh, Panos. Most men my age are expecting grandchildren. What, you think I'm simply waiting for the right woman?"

Panos stared, lifting his shoulders gently. Weren't most men?

"You do," Apollo said flatly. "And you? How long will it take you to find her, your right woman? Perhaps we can look together. Find a pair of sisters, or one to share?"

Panos stood. He was both too and not quite enough drunk for this. Apollo rose too and though he was at least a meter away, it felt like they were face to face. He stepped closer and then they were face to face, and Apollo had him neatly trapped against the desk.

"Apollo, I--"

"Why don't you stay with me and continue doing what you love, where you love? I know you love that island, Panos. As much as the work, you love the island."

When Panos didn't respond, Apollo moved closer. "Please don't leave."

"I think it would be best." Panos' voice was faint. Not only had they already left, Apollo was not saying what he was hearing. Or he wasn't hearing what--there was no way.

"Not for me, it wouldn't." His arms were at Panos' elbows. The toes of their shoes were almost touching. The boat rocked, or Panos rocked, and a quick stumble shifted him into Apollo's arms. Panos took a quick breath at the jolt, but Apollo's hands tightened on him.

"Steady, sailor." He tilted his head and smiled. "I've chosen the wrong time yet again. I'll go. We should speak when you are--"

"No." Panos clutched at his lapel. He was still staring at their feet, now nearly entwined, Apollo's foot between his. He swallowed and looked up. They were face to face now, eye to eye, nearly nose to nose He could feel Apollo's breath and smell the smoky amber scent of his pipe.

"I"m fine. You don't--" Panos broke off to take a deep breath. "Don't go."

Apollo's smile faded and he moved his hands to Panos' shoulder, then his neck, and finally, into his hair. He tugged Panos to him and they were mouth to mouth. With one small tilt, Apollo's mouth opened against his. Panos moved into the kiss, his hands cupping Apollo's face.

The ship rocked and they clung to each other.

Panos slid his fingers under Apollo's jacket, trying to push it off of him, laughing as Apollo tried to ease out of it without breaking their kiss. They pulled apart for a brief moment, tugging jackets off and then kissed again.

"You feel so right in my arms, Pan."

Panos trailed kisses down Apollo's neck and followed with his fingers to unbutton Apollo's shirt.

"What are we going to do in Athens?"

Apollo turned and pulled Panos onto the bed with him. "More of this," he said, leaning in for another kiss. "A small holiday before you take your place with us."

Panos shifted over Apollo. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say or even how to say it. What he was sure about was kissing Apollo again.

"You're hair is bleached from all that time in the sun. I think you spent as much time on the beach as working."

Panos smiled. "We'll discuss work when I return from my holiday."

Apollo's eyebrow arched and he flipped Panos neatly over, nipping at his neck. "Oh? And when will that be?"

"A fortnight should be enough. We've a lot of catching up to do." Apollo was smiling. Panos tugged him down for another kiss.

"You feel right in my arms too."

Panos could trust this and he could trust Apollo. He was certain of it.

 

///fin


End file.
